by Tegan Maher
"Oh hell no," she said. "My bullshit meter shot through the roof before he was halfway across the parkin' lot. I went in to pick up my check and left rather than stay for a drink because I couldn't believe Kat was swallowin' his story."
"Good," I said. "We didn't either, but he's got her snowed."
"Yeah," she replied, concern lacing her voice. "And I don't get it. She's one of the most analytical people I've ever met. It doesn’t make any sense."
That gave me an idea, but I'd have to think on it for a bit to figure out how to make it happen.
"We're working on it," I said. "My folks are digging, and so's Sean. If he's ever stood out in any way—good or bad—we'll know about it before too long."
"Good. When you find out why he's connin' her, let me know. I'll gladly take a swipe at his manly bits."
The thought was cringe-worthy because I'm pretty sure she'd make use of her bear claws. She could do a ton of damage with just one swipe, even to a vampire. Still, considering who we were talking about, I'd happily let her take a shot.
"So is that the only reason you called?" she asked. "I'm sitting outside the bank and I need to go in and cash my check."
"Oh, sorry, no," I said. "You were working the night the body was found, right?"
"Sure was."
“Was Vanderveer in the Hook that night?"
"He was," she said without pause. "There was a backroom game going. I don't think he actually played, though. I think he spent most of his time watching. Well, and playing with Carly Sue's assets."
I pulled in deep breath and released it. "Yeah, that's an ugly situation, there."
"I'll say," she said. "Awkward, too, when Clifford came in and caught them."
"Wait, what?"
"Yeah, Clifford came in while the vamp was inspecting Carly's tonsils with his tongue. I was shocked—and impressed—when Cliff just turned around and walked back out."
"Was he pissed?" I thought of the passive facade he'd tried to present to us.
"Oh yeah," she said. "He did a great job of holding his cool until he was outside, but I followed him. He's a good guy, and I wanted to make sure he was okay. We went to school together. He was passin' Vanderveer's car at that point and turned around and put his fist through the driver's side window."
"That's no mean feat," I said, "especially for a human."
"I know. That's what was so surprising. But if you think about it, he was probably a walking bag of adrenaline at that point, plus he still wears his big, bulky class ring, so it may not have been so hard. I doubt he even felt it."
The class ring would explain it. Most people think it's easy to break a car window, and it is if you apply a lot of force to a small area. Using something bigger such as a fist isn't as easy as the show on TV, though, especially if the window is all the way up.
"So Clifford was there, and caught his wife playing tiddlywinks with some other dude. Anybody else?"
"There was a chick there. Looked to be about forty and had some serious sour grapes goin' on, but she was also losing her tail feathers even though the pots were small because she kept bettin' stupid hands. She kept glaring at the cute and handsy couple, but I never saw them interact. Besides her, there were a few locals and a handful of tourists, and that was it. Maybe nine or ten people in all, but everybody was havin' a good time."
"You've been at the Hook for ten years or so, right?"
She snorted. "Don't remind me. I'd rather not dwell on the series of bad life choices that have landed me where I am today." I could hear the sarcastic smile in her voice.
"Yeah, you and me, both, sister," I said. "But think about this for a second. Dana told me last night that the last time Vanderveer was in town, he'd had another girl toy. She was probably married at the time and would be about fortyish now. Could that have been her?"
"Nope," she said without so much as a hint of hesitation. "Last time he rolled into town and stayed a while, he kept time with Darlene Clancy. The Hook isn't exactly the type of place she frequents these days, at least not since her divorce. Thank the universe for small favors," she added.
That stopped me in my tracks. Darlene Clancy. The woman who owned the bookstore two doors down from where we’d found him. Now that was interesting.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I TOOK A FEW MINUTES to decide what to do. First, I called Rocks, the guy who owned the Rusty Hook, to ask if he could send the security footage from that night so I could get a look at the woman. Next, I called my mom. If anybody would know about gossip from a decade ago, it would be her. She'd been queen bee of the town back then, but for much different reasons than I was. She'd been the leader of the upper-echelon social circle as well as the person pulling the strings of local politics behind the scenes.
"Oh yeah," she said when I asked her about the affair. "I'd forgotten all about that. Darlene and Charles Vanderveer did have a summer fling. I think she was expecting more out of it, but that was never gonna happen."
"Because he was a vampire." I said.
"No," she said, her voice flat, "Because he was a pig."
I couldn't argue with that. "Do you think she held a grudge?" I asked.
"If she did, it's not like she could say much about it. She'd only been married a few years at that point. The worst part is that Darren gave her anything she asked for. He came from money and wanted nothing more than to give her anything she wanted. The man worshiped her."
I shook my head. I'd never understand people.
"Since the mystery woman's been identified, that brings us back to Clifford, then."
"How sure are you about that?" she asked.
"I'm not,” I said, weighing my words. “He has the tattoo, but I don't see it. To tell you the truth, if he were gonna do it, I'd think he's more the type to beat the guy to death."
"So it's not that you don't think he's capable of it; you just don't think it's him because of the method."
"Correct.” I chewed on my lip. “But Sean's starting to chomp at the bit. I'm going for another lesson with Charlotte this afternoon and I'd love to be able to throw him another suspect just to get his mind off Clifford. He wants to rummage through his mind and find out for himself."
Mom was quiet for a minute.
"What?" I asked. "You can't seriously be considering that?"
"Honey, the political balance here is delicate. Sean's good at what he does, and you're at a dead end. Maybe it's not such a bad idea."
"And how, exactly, do you propose we get to him? And how are we going to explain it away afterwards?"
"Cordelia Delphine. Use your head for somethin' besides a hat rack."
I hated when she said that, because it always meant she was right and I was missing the obvious. I thought for a second, then gave myself a mental forehead slap. Sean could just erase the whole thing.
"Wow. Okay. I'll arrange it. But what if he's guilty?"
Mom paused. "If he's guilty, he's to be punished via human law. Tell Sean we'll make sure he gets the maximum sentence, but under no circumstances is he to be subject to vampire law. As a matter of fact, I'll call Sean myself."
"No, I'll do it," I said. "If you want me to be more than just a puppet down here, you're gonna have to let me handle things. You know as well as I do, respect is earned by making tough calls and sticking behind them."
"You're going to be your father's daughter after all," she said, a hint of pride in her voice, "and mine, too. The perfect blend."
Mom and Dad were the perfect power couple. Dad was the one who shook hands and made the diplomatic decisions because he was better at putting himself in somebody else's shoes. That gave him an edge in many different situations.
Mom was the one who took the direct, hard-nosed approach when need be. It wasn't that that Dad couldn't—he could be downright ruthless when it was called for—but it wasn't his first choice. She'd learned diplomacy over the years, but it had been a struggle.
Neither of them were afraid to be ruthless when the situation called for it,
though.
"I think that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," I said.
"Good talk, then." I rolled my eyes at her dismissive yet sassy tone. "Now, go find a murderer while I try to figure out who this lowlife is that's trying to prey on our Kat."
After we hung up, I gave Sean a call and gave him the news.
"Fabulous," he said. "I'll meet you in front of his shop in an hour."
"It may be better to meet me at my office," I said, thinking about how awkward it would be if one of his staff came in and caught Sean rooting around in the boss's noggin.
"Your office, then."
While I was waiting, I called Alex. He'd been passed out cold that morning, and I'd decided to let him sleep. From what he'd told me, the pack had run him ragged while he was up there, and I figured he needed the rest.
"Hey! I was just on my way to your office," he said. "Thanks for letting me sleep in; you didn't have to do that."
"I know I didn't have to, but you needed it. Instead of meeting me at the office, how 'bout some lunch?"
"Zach's?"
"Yup."
"Good. I wanted to stop in and check on him anyway. How's he doing?"
I realize it sounded ridiculous to be so worried about a grown man, especially considering Zach was one of the strongest people I'd ever met, but he'd also undergone a huge life change, and both of us just wanted to make sure that everything went well.
"He's right as rain," I said. "He's taken to the new lifestyle like a duck to water."
Alex paused, knowing how much I struggled with the tough decision that had been made regarding Zach. "To be fair, it's not far off from the life he would have likely had if life hadn't thrown him such a crappy curve ball."
He was right; when we were young, Zach had wanted to own a small sports-themed restaurant, and he was well on his way to doing just that.
He'd started with a sandwich shop and deli and it had gone over gangbusters. Now he was expanding into soups and salads and had the little mini-sports bar vibe going. Throw in some burgers and wings, and he was right where he'd always wanted to be. Or that's what I kept telling myself, anyway.
When the bell over the door rang, he turned from wiping down some tables and grinned at me.
"Hey, stranger. I haven't seen you in at least a day and a half," he teased. "C'mon in and catch me up with your life!"
Smiling, I took a seat. "Alex is meeting me here in a few minutes. He wanted to stop in and say hi, too."
A small shadow crossed his face. I knew he had mixed feelings about Alex. On one hand, they were two peas in a pod when it came to sports, food, politics, and just about everything else. On the other hand, he saw Alex as competition when it came to me. It wasn't easy for him, but he was getting better about it.
We shot the bull for a few minutes until Alex arrived, then he got busy after we ordered and we didn't have a chance to talk much to him.
"He looks relaxed," Alex said, taking a bite out of his tuna on rye.
I bit the end off the ginormous dill pickle that came with every sandwich. "I know. He's like that most of the time, but he was in a temper the other day because the delivery guy screwed up his order. That made me feel better."
We'd been worrying about him because ever since his memory was tampered with, he'd been a little flat. Everybody has a moment every now and then, but for the first month, he hadn't. He'd been pleasant and impossible to piss off. So when I came in and he was giving the delivery company what's for over two messed-up orders in three weeks, I was relieved.
We finished up our sandwiches and I took a deep breath.
Time to go wrestle a bear.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
AS I SUSPECTED, CLIFFORD was not happy to see us. I took the nice approach first and asked him to come to my office to answer a few questions. I always felt like saying my office was so much less threatening than asking somebody to come to the station, even though it was the same thing.
He didn't agree.
I knew the minute we walked in that I was going to have to resort to more drastic measures. As soon as he began to put up a fuss, I whispered a few words and watched as his face went slack.
"You want to come to the office with me. Tell the nice lady working the counter that you're going to lunch and that you'll be back in a little bit."
I started to tell him to smile but figured that wouldn't be appropriate to the situation, especially if the girl knew what he was going through with Carly Sue.
He did as I suggested, but the girl looked confused. "You just went to lunch an hour ago. It's my turn."
I stepped forward and held out my hand. "Sheriff Cori Sloane. We'll have him back in a little bit, then you can take your lunch."
She scrunched her brow, displeased, but nodded.
Sean was waiting for us when we got to the station and was flirting with Ms. Ellen. She was flirting right back, and I smiled when I saw it. A handsome, debonair, thirty-something man hamming it up with a seventy-year-old woman who was blushing like a high schooler.
He winked at me when he saw us, then turned back to her. "Ms. Ellen, it's been a pleasure as always."
She waved a hand at him, but was grinning. "Go on, you naughty man. Behave yourself and quit hittin' on little old ladies."
He put his hand over his heart. "Madame, you may have a few years on the younger ladies, but I assure you—your company is much preferable. As always, it was a pleasure spending time with you." He scooped up her hand and kissed the back of it.
My wizened secretary scowled at him to let him know he wasn't pulling one over on her, but her rheumy brown eyes were sparkling behind her bedazzled cats-eye glasses. She smacked him on the arm with the newspaper she was holding. "You have business to attend to, and I'm gonna get fired for standin' around gabbing."
I rolled my eyes. Ms. Ellen came with the place; she wasn't going anywhere until she decided she was finished. I had no doubt the place would collapse within two days of her exit.
It was then she noticed Clifford, who was standing there with glazed eyes.
"What's wrong with him? He been into Myrtle Smith's medicine patch?"
Myrtle was old when God was a kid, and had grown her own stash for as long as anybody around there could remember. She claimed it was for medicinal purposes, and as long as she wasn't taking pot shots at high school kids trying to raid it, I let it go. Some battles just weren't worth it.
"No, he's just had a rough few days," I said.
She took a closer look. "Ain't that Junie Clifford's boy?"
I nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I need to ask him few questions."
Realization crossed her face. "Carly Sue. She was keepin' company with that murdered feller, wasn't she?"
"She was. And Clifford wasn't happy about it," Alex said.
"Well I don't reckon he was. Can't think of a single person who would be in that situation. Did you have to zap him with some juju?" she asked.
Nodding, I glanced around to see if anybody else had heard us, but there was nobody else in the office.
She opened the gate for us. "I hope he ain't the one who done it. It'll break his mama's heart."
Strangely enough, I was with her. "Me, too, Ms. Ellen."
We shuffled Clifford back to my office, then closed the door and locked it.
I urged Cliff to the chair in front of my desk, and Sean took a seat in a roll-ey chair, then wheeled himself over beside him.
The expression on Clifford's face was still blank and I worried that I'd zapped him with a little too much juice.
"I didn't break him, did I?" I chewed on my lip, watching for any sign of expression at all.
Sean lifted one corner of his mouth. "No, you didn't break him. But remind me to call you the next time I need an extra hand exercising the power of persuasion."
I crinkled my forehead, wondering what situation would require mass control.
Alex smiled, reading my expression. "You'd be surprised. Bar fights, bank robberies, riots. Th
ere are a million situations where wholesale persuasion comes in handy."
That was a can of worms I didn't want to open right then because I was on the fence about the whole idea. And that wasn't why we were there, anyway.
"Well, you're up," I said.
The entire spectacle was underwhelming to watch. It was just a matter of Sean laying his hand on Clifford's forehead and sitting there. Clifford closed his eyes and so did Sean, but the difference was that Clifford's eyes remained still behind his lids while Sean's darted back and forth like he was reading or watching TV behind them. I guess in a way, he was.
That went on for about two minutes, then Sean opened his eyes, a frown marring his brow. I held my breath.
"He didn't do it," Sean declared. "But he thinks his wife did. Apparently, he found a pocket watch that he recognized and a wad of hundred-dollar bills in her purse this morning. He's trying to figure out how to confront her about it."
My mind drifted back to something Sam had said—Dennis Hooper had lost his grandpappy's watch to Vanderveer. I explained to Sean.
His face went hard. "Then what are we waiting for? Let's bring the esteemed Mrs. Barker in."
I stood to leave and Sean cleared his throat then looked at Clifford still sitting there. "I fixed his memory so that all he remembers is having a pleasant chat with you two in which he told you about the money and the watch, but you have to release him from"—he waved his hands to indicate all of Clifford—"that. I'm not even sure how you managed it."
I snapped my fingers, a little pleased with the compliment despite myself, and Clifford shook his head. His eyes came back into focus and he stood and held out his hand. "I'm glad we could get this cleared up, Sheriff. Have a good day."
He turned and walked from my office with a spring in his step.
Sean shook his head. "I don't get it. You almost burn the house down trying to light a candle, but you can exercise complete control over a human being with a few muttered words and a snap of your fingers."
"Me?" I said, pointing a finger at myself. "What did you do to put that smile on his face?"